12 Hours - The Survival Stream of ToonTown
by LonerWolfGeminiJohn
Summary: The Tooniverse is doomed. Joey and his team have gone missing. Every fellow toon has lost their humanity due to the closure under mysterious circumstances. Only 8 users will take the fight against evil forces and save their beloved childhood game. (Inspired by the 13 Hours movie with a mix of alien invasion movies and The Matrix.)
1. The Arrival

**DECEMBER 19TH, 2016 - 9:26AM, TOONTOWN TIME**

Silver awoke from his sleep as his head lay back on the leather cushion and his legs slightly stretched out. His feet were blistered and squashed from the rigidity of his boots along with the lack of space and his legs feeling squeezed and pulled from horse-like splits. It had been a sunny day in TTC. Snow still fell from the skies, white sprinkles and flakes covering green grasses with winter wonder. Looking up is a female mouse of a tall stature casually examining the young man's appearance. He wasn't toony but he looked the part of a young Cog. The mouse's face contorted into a blend of bewilderment, knowing that this Cog may or may not be a threat to the people. She left Silver alone as the Trolley train came to a stop and dozens of toons waited patiently to rise from their seats.

Silver was lying down all the way back and someone from behind attempted to get out. He noticed this and adjusted his seat as the Toon behind him grumbled. The radio above all passengers had announced to all passengers and the staff members to stand up and collect their belongings and enjoy a ToonTastic Day. The voice was monotone and unfriendly, however. Everybody in the game was already downright gloomy after the announcement of another closure.

The young man completely snapped out of his mental slumber and reached out for his belongings. As Silver grabbed the belongings, he helped a few other players who returned a look with a disdainful frown.

Making it outside of the train station with a couple more animals, there were several congregations standing by the Toon Headquarters, hundreds of Toons carrying picket signs with the following phrases:

"Please save ToonTown! All work and no play equals dull children!"

"Not another Disney…"

"Save our toons!"

"No more greed! No more tainted memories!"

This must have been the 37th protest today, Silver thought. The game isn't having any new promises lately with the disappearance of the best moderators after the latest news of the Tooniverse facing it's doom once again. He looked down at his phone and was told to meet at Punchline Place. Special drive tonight, maybe a tour at the last server standing, the young man thought to himself. Passing through small crowds to the frozen fishing grounds, Silver caught a slightly dark and light blue dog staring at him. Donning shades, a rusted, torn shirt and military pants with boots, Clarke Doggensoda was waiting by the entrance. Arms crossed with a defensive pose, Clarke brought Silver out of the massively narrow roads to an empty building. Nothing was exchanged between the two as more toons protested the closure and one toon that looked like a pudgy, red duck in the distance who tossed a burning glass seltzer bottle and exploded, the windows set ablaze.

Nobody was paying attention to the Cogs and some of the players were already going sad or getting injured by the robots. One Bean Counter typed rapidly as a newcomer was instantly sent back to the playground. Other Cashbots were taunting the toons with mocking victory dances as more toons were kicked out of the server.

Just then, Clark distracted the man's thoughts of disheartening losses and passed him a secretive black handle. "Don't take chances, kid." Was all what Silver heard from the toon. Continuing to walk down the empty lot where the buildings were deconstructed and torn apart, both Silver and Clarke walked to the sides with fences and casually analyzed the streets to their right. Opening a door to the left, the military toon let the young man enter as he looked outside for incoming toons. Then the door closed behind Clarke and the lights brightened. For a moment, Clarke checked the front windows for any intruders who might find out about the secret hideout. When everything was clear, the fellow dog turned to the young man with a whole-hearted smile and tone. "Good to see you back in the game, John!"

Silver nodded and returned a small smile. He had left the virtual world for quite some time and it was days before the New Year. A little nostalgia wouldn't hurt, after all. The Young man examined his bar and the colors were red. The details on the object were artificial and alien-looking to him. Was this a skin for a squirt gun or a hack for the easy Cog kills?

"Keep that pistol a secret, Kid." Clarke advised the young man as he shut the windows. "I do not want any of the moderators or players knowing about a new weapon I installed in the game."

"That's quite an introduction..." Silver replied, attempting to be cheerful. "Mind telling me what's happening right now?"

"Well, Joey is out and everything just went hectic. Christmas came a little too early for everybody – not a good idea to pass a large sack of coal to plenty of generous people who have been playing this game for years. Mind giving me a hand?"

Silver holstered the pistol behind his jeans and pulled down the metal ropes as Clarke peered out one last time. The neutral blue colored hound prepared his alien pistol which glowed blue and screeched. He walked to the pantry and revealed a series of foreign weapons turning with a delightful expression.

"Make your pick. Take two of each and don't go overboard."

The young man couldn't believe it – for the first time in a virtual world of secrecy there were decent weapons superior to gags that can spontaneously destroy cogs and put out other big cogs and goons. He took a heavy machine gun and a pulse assault rifle in addition to the same armor as Clarke was busy packing his bags.

"Where are we going?" Silver inquired as he finished with his packing.

"Far, _far_ away." Clarke tightened his boots and checked his identification. He grabbed his wallets making it for the back door, motioning for the young man to follow. Questions couldn't be answered right now, but Silver knew there was more to come later.

Hopping on-board a Black Hummer, the dog started the engine and opened the door for the young man as Silver heard a high-picthed whistle dash through his ear. Ducking and closing the door, several sacks embezzled in flames burned the side of the vehicle. With enough horsepower, the Hummer sped off away from the groups of outrageous protestors and the acceleration rose.

As the tires kept rolling, Silver looked behind and caught several toons carrying heads of the demolished robots and flammable objects running towards the rear end of the vehicle and shouting indistinct phrases that the humming inside of the vehicle barely drowned out the voices.

Suddenly the vehicle came to a screeching halt with another congregation of toons covering the roads like bees to honey. "Damn." Clarke muttered. The riot was coming to them and there would only be one way out alive – do or die. The other riot up front were toons in business clothes, burnt, ripped and patched with money, propaganda paper and blood.

"Welcome to ToonTown." Clarke sarcastically told Silver.

Some of those players advanced toward the truck and the Toon wearing the Robber Baron mask appeared by Clarke's window.

"Greetings, toon." The Robber Baron-toon unconvincingly greeted the blue dog. "What are you doing with this Cog?"

"He and I are just going for studies. Official Labs Permit. Special Level 10." Clarke replied with a carefree smile as Silver lied his head back calmly, heart beating like a buzzing bee.

"This little fellow looks unsettled," the obese, pudgy duck sneered by Silver's side window. "He feels that you should hand him over to us and we'll put this tomfoolery toon out of his misery." He arms slouched but the left elbow rubbed on the side door.

" _Pull over for interrogation_." The toon with the Robber Baron mask ordered.

Clarke bit his top lip and firmly replied, "I'm sorry, sir – I can't do that." His eyes met with the Devil underneath the mask and out came the red flames. "He's just an old friend."

"Oh, so now you suddenly pick money mongers as allies?" Pudge sniggered, teeth clicking.

"PULL OVER FOR INTERROGATION!"

Both men's organs synchronized in scattering leaps and Silver was the first to pull out his alien gun, aiming at Baron while Clarke pointed at Pudge. Their guns were beeping with preparation. Both teams were taken aback, Pudge curiously looking at Clarke's Mod-Gun. Baron lifted his hand to stop the strike from all directions. This is Clarke's move.

Silver'e eyes drifted to the lunatic duck's bloodshot eyes, fighting fire with fire. The young man wasn't taking the visit well so far. Toons were already hit with a blue pill that was blood red like the duck's skin and now all communities were divisive as the chess battle between two Users and the anarchist Cogs.

In the front, toons that were carrying the Cogs' heads readied their Power Spirals, to destroy the engines and set the Users ablaze. But some of those toons sat in a trance, losing a focus on the two. In the back, torches were getting brighter and lighter and a diversity of toons coming closer to the vehicle. There were two rabbits covered with black oily marks – they must have sealed their fates with the Cogs a very long time ago. One of them put their hands on the rear tires, loud puffing in the back ground.

"The longer you wait, the quicker your alliance with the Cogs strengthens." Baron warned. "You may be able to escape this riot, but you'll understand why we machines will triumph over you and the Tooniverse."

"I'm willing to make that gamble for the sake of my toonmanity and childhood." Silver responded, eyeing Pudge. The duck's eyes widened and looked stiff and as he was slouching his shoulder with the rubbing elbow, the young man pulled the trigger and a quick, red beam hit the duck. The toon was impacted and flew backwards while he disintegrated into ashes. The black, orange and yellow feathers followed the ashes and Pudge's soul disappeared.

The rabbits in business suits that were deflating the wheels released their grips and jumped in fear. A distorted, shocking charge surged through the chamber, ready to fire another volt. The Baron Toon looked on at the human in astonishment and fear at the weapons, but did not dare lay a finger on the Hummer nor Clarke. Outside, the area was devoid of any hate speeches or hostility, except a very few of those toons were prepared to attack.

Foolishly, the Baron slowly lifted his mask to present his sheepish smile and the whiskers unfolding the smile. "I guess you and your partner are thriving with such weaponry," the Baron began with half-hearted enthusiasm and terror. "I still won't excuse you – "

"Spare us the Prim-and-Proper bullshit, furball." Clarke sharply interrupted. His finger was off the trigger and a blue minute star sparkled at the barrel of the pistol. "See what my partner did to your buddy? _Do_ you know what happened to him?" The Baron-Toon froze with his smile.

"That's all right – because he just vaporized your right-hand man to Kingdom Come and he ain't coming back. His soul is gone and nowhere to be collected. And if you think about flinging one arrow at either of us, we'll get into an all-out war. We'll end your time in the Tooniverse early." Clarke puffed lightly, imitating Pudge's disintegration.

"How willing are _you_ really – to fight to keep your childhood memories alive, no matter who is right or wrong? No matter who tells you to grow up?" Nobody had moved one inch, and the Baron stepped back, dropping his arms. A pin dropped on the humane toon. "I'm ready to go right here, right now." Clarke ended, adding silence to the noisy riots.

"It is best you spend your last days on this little video game of yours, Toons." Baron changed his tone as if he regained his soul. The two Users exchanged nods and continued down the path, with the sullen-looking animals carefully monitoring the Hummer. Fires were still ablaze and buildings were deconstructed with no signals of silliness around. Silver and Clarke deactivated and holstered their pistols, riding on with silence.


	2. Comrades in Arms

Now past the devastation in ToonTown Central, Clarke relaxed his shoulders and drove through the streets of Punchline Place with toons carrying signs and sleeping on the concrete, marbled sidewalks. One tall purple cat with an extended forehead carried a tiny light pink kitten in her arms as a short puppy-faced toon stood by her looking for his companion in the aftermath of a brief riot that wrecked the entire neighborhood. Horses were carrying some of their neighbors out of broken homes as a teal pig covered his green bear girlfriend with a blanket, protecting her from the cold elements in the area. Three medium, stocky-looking mice scattered to the demolished buildings and intruded properties for supplies and food. Some ducks were mourning the losses of their friends who stampeded near The Flying Pie to prevent the inciting protests.

Silver couldn't believe it – through his eyes everything played out as a documentary with the aftermath of recent disasters. He was immersed in the Great Depression within the memories of joy and humanity. Clarke didn't feel a ping of emotion but there was a small sentimentality he had for the world as he was 6 months shy from retirement of his life in the world of fun and games.

* * *

John Silver wasn't your typical everyday gamer. At 5 years old, the wacky Wednesday world was love at first sight for the boy. He was enjoying the thrills and fantasies of being the world leader of ToonTown aside with President Flippy Doggenbottom, who was awaiting his entrance and the welcome of several other toons in the next level of Cog-Busting. Throughout his 7 years of destroying robots and teaming up with the most valuable players, he left the field and went off into a journey unknown.

Now, he was 18 and ages away from reliving one of his most cherished memories. He was an athlete, at least 6 foot two, dark blonde and demonic yet internally friendly eyes. The young man had a lean physique with some muscle and endurance from all the training and walking he'd been done for years. Silver a brilliant fighter and a soft-spoken peaceful youngster. The young man had a thing for getting into action and not sticking to his Plan Z principles of running away from a fight. Stand your ground, Silver would say to himself in times of radically tumultuous moments of life he'd get himself into for discovering the world and getting to the top. Within his few years of destroying Cogs, he was ready to enter the competitions for cleaning out the streets clogged with trouble – only to get kicked out several times when he revisited the town because of low health and inexperience. He wasn't feeling too happy about the way things were until he ran into another rookie who didn't really rub shoulders to begin with.

It turned out to be Clarke Doggensoda – who was taller than Silver, but was skinny at the arms even though there was plenty of bulk on the chest and legs. Clarke had streaks of teal and navy around his body but his eyes were turquoise and shades of black hid within his persistence to fight and become a warrior. Standing at 6 foot four and 3 years older than Silver, Clarke was near the point where school was at his end. He was always a smart ass to everybody around him and would later go on to win "Loudmouth of the Year" for making many brash comments and sarcastic remarks. He'd always try out for the gym and spend his time getting involved with intense activities that made him move around a lot. Then one day, he was kicked out for bullying a toon and decided to join the Toon Resistance. Clarke was learning the basics of the Cogs even though he would often sneak out of class to steal important information and discover for himself the weaknesses of the robots.

But in the Cog battle training, Clarke and Silver were at each other with who threw the pie farthest, who had better squirt efficiency, and how much power the healing gags had. At times, the two rivals would go at each other with sneering remarks, with one: "Looks like all that slow throwing makes me wonder if you were born with a fat cow's legs!" Then came laughter from some bystanders as the latter remained silent and continued to do his own thing until the training sessions were over. Every fight that was closer to the end of their first tasks since Spring, more taunts such as "Spaghetti cakes", "Man-boobs breast milk in seltzer" and "Swollen lips" would be exchanged whenever a gag was effective or ineffective.

Until one day, when the Hollywoods invaded Silly Street, Clarke continued to egg the young man on. Then, without hesitation he spun and sharply commented: "Maybe if your Daddy was around he'd teach you some manners and remind you that you're still as dumb as a jackass and as ugly as roadkill." And that only pushed Clarke further. Except deep inside, the comments froze the alpha and compelled him to either strike back or keep talking.

Clarke ran at Silver and tugged him by his collar. "You better watch your tongue, rookie!" The hound remarked brashly. There was anger in his eyes with a slight surprise that the young man would respond in such a sharp way. With a forceful push, Clarke shoved Silver away from him and was met with a kick to the knee, dropping him to the floor. Keeping his guard up, Silver delivered another low kick from behind his kneecap and he missed. Clarke lunged at him, only for the youngster to step aside as the puffy hound's head met with the sidewalk and almost cracked his head open, nearly falling into a state of concussion.

"I hope you didn't forget your lines." A humorless voice emerged from behind the grazed dog, grabbing him by his knees and dragging him to the streets. Clarke stood but couldn't make out the level of the Cog. With the way Mr. Hollywood greeted the toon, it must have been a Level 10. Clarke removed a squirt gun that he had kept inside his pockets throughout his recent training sessions and fired at the man's face. The water barely wiped the smile off the Cog's face and fell to the ground with a depleting power trip.

Silver watched as the dog was getting bombarded with attacks and couldn't decide whether the Toon should stand his own ground against the higher cogs. But it had always been his dream to fight the tough guys at an early level to increase his skill set quicker. On the other hand, if he let Clarke die he would not be better than any of the bullies he'd face after his return.

The youngster jumped into battle and lifted Clarke up by his knees. The latter was still dazed and badly hurt by the Power Trip, but his wounds were healed with a feather, giving him enough time to get back up on his feet and use a Whole Fruit Pie. The toon swung with all his strength and shattered the man's teeth out. Mr. Hollywood pulled out his golf club and swung – hitting Silver with the golf ball. Clarke couldn't make out the situation from his eyes as everything happened so quickly. With so much bewilderment that went on, a duplicate appeared behind Mr. Hollywood and clenched his fist, ready to back up his comrade.

Silver didn't have time to think – he used another whole fruit pie and followed the attack with Clarke, bringing the cog down to orange. Just a few more lucky hits and they would have to deal with the next Cog and wait for rescue. Several dark stars shook the ground and both players reached for the sky. The clone has entered the battle, ready to finish off Clarke. As the clone pulled out a picket with glossy teeth, Silver pulled out his Cream Pie Slice and Clarke his last Whole Fruit Pie. While Silver threw right, the two cogs jumped simultaneously to their right, only for the original Cog to get hit with the pie and was brought down to red.

The earth quaked with yet another Power Trip and only Clarke was hit with a straight blow to the chest. He scrambled to the right while a ring of white sparkles shot straight at the dog. Silver defiantly kept his eyes on the clone while Clarke slowly regained his vision and found the youngster in battle with the dog. "What the hell are you doing here?" Clarke barked at John. "This is my fight!"

"No. _Our_ fight." Silver replied, focused on readying his pie. What looked like a Fruit Pie behind the youngster's pocket disgusted the dog. He knew that the man would get themselves killed with reckless actions but went along with the plan, knowing the fight would be worthy in the long run. Paying attention to the teethless Cog on his right, Clarke pulled out a Seltzer Bottle and sprayed fluids on the man's face with an additional splash from Silver side. The red barely blinked red and the clone was getting impatient to kill both toons. With a Razzle Dazzle aimed at Silver, he was brought to the ground and blinded by a white background. The clone hurriedly used his club to hit the young man and he collapsed.

Clarke couldn't believe it – he was the remaining survivor in this fight and he ran out of his strongest gags. Then he pulled out of his feather and proceeded to tickle the dog back into battle. Getting back up and barely staggering, Silver aimed at Teethless and used his final fruit pie to knock him down and malfunctioned into a seizure. His chest twisted counter-clockwise as the arms flapped in all directions, gears flying out of the suit. The head shrunk as bolts and gears imploded from the top and Mr. Hollywood was no more.

The clone initiated a power trip, hitting both toons and only one of them would be sent back to the playground. The clone was dominating the toons as a bystander witnessed the events unfold before her eyes. She was unsure as to whether the boys where showing off. With her foot on the street, the duck jumped into battle as the Hollywood duplicate used another Power Trip and the two toons barely jumped over the incoming sparkles.

Silver and Clarke released breaths of relief, but the fight wasn't over yet. The duck had a megaphone in her hand while the two fighters carried the last cream pie slices, aiming at the head. Clarke looked at the youngster and he was no longer an enemy – instead a comrade in arms.

"Go for the head, like always?" Clarke asked.

Silver shook his head. "Hit him where his pair won't grow." At the slip of the word "pair", he let out a smirk and pressured Clarke into a small chuckle.

The duck ran out, slightly irritated with the two and proceeded to tell her own joke. "What's long, smooth but chewy?" A beat came along. "Hot diggity dogs."

The young man and the hound cried tears of joy at the duck's tone of voice in telling the joke, halfway healed. Silver aimed for the head, which the Hollywood acted quickly by ducking down, only for Clarke to release the pie from his hand as it hit the groin. Holly Clone backed down and was in the red zone. He pulled out his Razzle Dazzle in pain and struck at Silver, only for the man to roll aside and pull out a Fruit Pie Slice. Clarke and the duck used their squirt guns, aiming for the works. Silver tossed his pie and hit the Hollywood in the chest. Nearly missing by an inch, Clarke and the duck pulled the triggers and the water sparked his circular bar.

The Hollywood clone spun around, a robotic tornado with the whole world falling before him. Gears and wires were ripped apart, human skin flew out with the rest of the bolts and exploded. Celebrating their victory dances, the duck turned to the two men in a disgusted manner.

"Next time, boys – keep it clean." And that was the last they ever heard from the toon.

Silver and Clarke exchanged glances, smiling at their first ever battle against the tall Sellbots in ToonTown Central. Leaning over for an arm grapple, Clarke pulled the young man in for a chest bump.

"That was sweet!" Clarke cried out in a jubilant attitude. The blue dog's circular face met with the young man's oval jaw, occupied with nothing but impulse. "We should go again!"

* * *

"Hey, buddy!" Clarke snapped the 18-year-old out of his trance. The dark brown eyes caught up with the bad boy smile from Clarke. "still drifting off into space, Major Tom?"

"I'm just thinking about what it was like before everybody lost hope and were just living peacefully without stories of violence and trolls." Silver began. He was about to add to the melodramatics, but he stopped himself and smiled. "You remember that day we were showing off to that duck on Silly Street with the Mr. Hollywoods trying to kick our asses? We were both egging each other on to destroy the big guys alone without any help."

"Of course, I remember." Clarke barely remembered the day, but understood what really went down between the two nearly five years ago. "We were looked at as fools when we showed off to everybody at how good we were getting."

"I miss those good old days," Silver continued to reminisce as he peered outside the windows.

"You dig too much into your past, kid." Clarke responded, the streets growing quieter. Just about the entire city was evacuated as the ashes fell from the sky. toons nor Cogs were nowhere to be found. The morning was approaching noon and the sunlight dimmed as the white flakes peacefully fell to the ground.

"You gotta focus on what you want to do besides serve as a top-of-the-pyramid secret agent protecting presidents. Go soul-searching again, work in construction, grow a farm, be a Buddhist, damn it!" Clarke playfully punched his friend on the shoulder. He liked the young man, even as a brother. No matter how lonely he was, Silver was always free to provide company for him and the crew he hung around with. "I get that you're ready to go out into the TRUE reality, but you shouldn't be afraid to take chances…"

Silver was focused on the winter weather outside as his auditory attention slowly fell into silence. A beaming dot in the sky floated above all buildings, the mysterious star orbiting the Tooniverse with the young man's eyes leeching onto the star. The beam left a trail of red and yellow clouds in the sky – to John's disappointment it must have been a jet from that far a distance. He turned his head slowly and focused back on the front of the road.


	3. Caved In

The noon grew dimmer as the blizzards roared in the vehicle's direction, flooding the tunnel while the Hummer reached the path to Lighthouse Lane. The seas of white frost worsened while the storm trapped the two friends inside the barricaded truck. Clarke pushed the gas pedal firmly, looking to get through the overwhelming pile of snow. The surface became slippery and cold water rained on the roof of the vehicle, forming icicles at the windows and wheels.

The heater on Silver's side barely exhaled warmth; the engines were dying from the overwhelming cold that Hell brought over. Clarke reversed the vehicle but the Hummer barely moved. The tires were caught in the tiny igloos, which only made the vehicle lose mobility and space. Silver awoke from another mental slumber and stood from his seat.

"Are we at Donald's Dock already? It feels like the base is seven more hours are from where we are with this traffic." Silver questioned.

"I'm certain. But we're beyond Donald's Dock already." Clarke's comment surprised the young man and his eyes darted upward. "We're almost to the base, if I could only figure out how to get us out of this mess.." The blue dog analyzed the control pad above the windshield. The pad of buttons and levers was a series of elevator buttons and standard mechanics. Except there were certain buttons that weren't specificly identifiable. "Yeah…" Clarke calmly began, pressing a few buttons while the car snoozed. "I modified this baby as soon as I got the vehicle four months ago. I climbed a couple of ranks in order to get this Hummer, but I'm sure the toon who handed me this vehicle wasn't very specific about what each button does."

Silver looked to the back and found the rear mirrors covered with snow. There had been no vision as to what is coming from behind. The young man was about to go to the back but noticed a lever resting beside him in the middle. "What does this lever do?"

Clarke removed his seatbelt and shut down one of his engines. "That lever is ONLY for emergencies – it isn't a snow pusher if that's what you're thinking."

"Is it a flamethrower?"

"Nope. Not even close."

"Turbo engines."

"I wish, buddy."

"A bomb?"

"Somewhat."

"How do you not know much about what these buttons are used for if you've been given this vehicle by somebody who doesn't tell you about the risks of this Hummer?"

"Like I said, I modified it. When I got this truck, I wasn't truly aware of all the codes that I can use these specific buttons for. Let's just say when I was training under one of Lord Commander Lowden Clear's captains I made the silly decision to take his cars out for a spin. It was later that he gave me so much grief for screwing around with the control pad without any knowledge of the codes that were given to me by someone superior to my levels. I was prohibited from riding vehicles for a few months."

"Too bad Lowden doesn't appreciate daredevils.."

"He does," Clarke responded, the car still awake without the other controls functioning. He ran his fingers through a series of buttons and pressed a few to keep the heat from leaving the interior. "…but under the exception that we DO NOT enter the Executive Tower or anywhere public where people can report these types of transportation. Clear mentioned that the more these things are kept under wraps, the better chance we have of fighting against the machines."

Silver watched Clarke continuously press more buttons and the youngster's eyes darted around, trying to memorize the sequence and keep himself from fidgeting. "What I can do to help us get the hell out of here?"

"Well, sitting around and asking questions won't help." Clarke then remembered something – the gas door was opened by one of the toons in the streets of Punchline Place. "Get to the gas door outside and see if you can figure out what is causing us to lose plenty of fuel. I'll figure out a code to give us enough juice to get to base before sundown. And make sure there isn't any snow on the inside." He handed Silver the walkie-talkie, smiling. "Trust me – if the blizzard doesn't kill us, maybe it will keep us alive for Santa Paws to give us his one-horse-open sleigh."

Silver nodded and breached to the outside. The chilly wind stopped the young man in his tracks and pushed him to the back door. The blizzard whistled through his ears as Silver placed his arm down to the bottom tire and was gelling up. Pulling himself forward to the tire on the back he was fighting against the wind and tides of airbone frosty snowflakes. The snowflakes grew thicker and powerful which numbed the man's hands. There was little warmth at the tips of Silver's fingers and he firmly pressed the fingers against the metal, searching for the gas door. "Clarke, I'm at the side." He pressed stiffer and the small door opened halfway while a hook appeared from the inside. Reaching to the rear end of the vehicle, Silver cursed to himself when he put his other hand on the hook and the tube slipped out of the door. He dug his hands through the snow, searching for the cover.

The young man grumbled while his flesh absorbed more shock and cold from the icy atmosphere. A hard rubber edge was caught at the tips of his fingers. The cover for the gas tube was pulled to his chest with moderate weight, discovering another tube. Both were equal in length as Silver ran his fingers around the plastic circles. With his other hand, Silver used his phone and activated the flashlights. The open gas hatch were several tiny spikes that were forming from the moist drips. Using his knuckles to scrape off the ice, Silver inserted the cover and sealed the hatch shut. Turning to the right, the young man made a ran for the passenger door.

"John – do me a favor and get to the hood. I'll need you to do a rewiring process." Silver crashed into a metallic object as the voice came on the radio. He fell on his stomach, the phone dropping from his hand. The light was nowhere to be found as the man lied in temporary pain. He pressed his button on the radio. "Clarke, I lost the light! I think something is blocking the cover of the vehicle!" He took a second to catch his breath and stood up from the cold surface. Placing his hands out into the near darkness, Silver touched a metallic circle with his hands and carefully embraced the pole.

Shifting to his left, the young man reached out with his left hand to touch the hood and kept the other hand on the pole. Pressing the button to talk on the radio, Silver cried out: "Clarke, I'll need the lights! I can't see anything out here!" There was nothing but static on the other end. Looking around to find any brightness in the hollow tunnel, Silver caught sight of the phone's white light on the ceiling.

High beams emerged from the LEDs and blinked. "You all right, kid?" Clarke asked Silver through the breaking signal.

"Keep them on! I'm by the hood!" Silver responded, maintaining his balance on the street rink. "I'm ready to operate here! Just tell me what I need to do and I'll begin the process!"

"Get back inside! I'll tell you what you have to do!"

Silver ducked and leaned back with the large pole still in his hands and pulled it back away from the windshield, swinging full speed and charged towards the walls, echoing several clangs. He stood up and wiped off some of the sheets and glimpsed at Clarke's motioning to get inside. Silver slid to his left and grasped the handle, entering the vehicle. Brushing himself off with any snow left on his jacket, Silver turned to his friend and ignored his icy hands. "Is there anything else inside the car that will put us at risk of becoming popsicles?"

"Let me figure out a way for this beauty warm up a little and we'll figure it out."

"What were you doing with the buttons?"

"Keeping the car's mechanics up while keeping track of fuel. We're only using a little bit of the battery until the blizzard dies down."

A few minutes drove by when the two friends heard the whistling perish to the outside. A soft swing blasted upfront. There must be another pole, Silver thought to himself. The Hummer blared loudly with a couple of chirps beeping out of a flatline.

"Well this day keeps getting better…!" Clarke mumbled, disgusted at another flaw with the Hummer. He looked to Silver with a serious demeanor. "We've only got one shot at this Hummer working, kid. Be careful with the rewiring or the system will crash!"

Silver made his way back outside with the high beams flickering and the young man slipped his way to the main engines. Red lights glowed from the engines and revealed three wires, all dark orange. "I see all three of the wires with the same color! Any way I can differentiate between them?"

"One of them is loosened at the bottom, but the tube is clogged with something in the middle." Clarke responded, flipping switches over the radio. "Remove it carefully and make sure it doesn't magnetically stick to the other wires or spill whatever is inside the tube."

Silver's fingers touched the metallic ring buried below the overlapping wires and narrow spaces. He turned the connector counter-clockwise, watching where the tube would stick.

An unearthly, high-tone roar echoed in the distance. Metal walls clattered and iron scraped the floors. A series of clicking-clacking steps and quiet fluttering followed with the abrupt noises.

"Clarke! Something's inside this tunnel…" Silver called on the radio. There was no response on the other line and looked inside the darkness of the vehicle. The howling wind breezed through the tunnel, haunting the room with uninvited welcomes.

Silver pulled the tube gently until the tube explosively flew around the motor. He grabbed onto the rubber tube and looked for any open ports within the blinking red lights. With one hand holding the tube, the other hand slipped into the engine, looking for open ports. What sounded like another loud, high-pitched robotic squawk prompted the young man to put his pinky finger on an unoccupied port.

Steps were slow and the ground continued to shake. With each booming step and tremor came another period of silence. The blizzard softly whistled but the cries repeated. The young man's heart beat rapidly, struggling to strengthen the erratic tube to the last open port. Tightening the grip on the middle of the tube, Silver held on to the edge and connected it to the open port. The earth quaked when the slow steps turned into bomb drops and five other echoes of demonic squawking passed through the tunnel. Silver turned the metal ring clockwise and tightened the metal edge. He spun around and caught the rectangular door with great brightness slowly condensed from both sides. The door was closing.

Silver scrambled back to the side door until he hit the floor once again.

 _"BWWWWWWWORRRAAAAAAH!"_ The loud squawk forcefully pushed the young man back into the snow with strong metal feet. A metallic claw pierced Silver in the back and he dropped his radio. His face was buried beneath the frost and water streaked his bruised nose. The man flipped to the side and was face-to-face with the illuminated creature.

The demonic dark red eyes screamed at the young man. An acorn-headed facial structure with a hooked, sharp beak and teeth of an iceberg, followed by a turkey body with iron wings and sword-sharp teeth landed on Silver's legs, shrieking with hostility. Silver reached for his back pocket for the beam gun. The robotic bird continued to scream and lunged at his face. Swiftly shifting from side to side, Silver reached for his back pocket and pulled out the gun. Another bird came out of the shadows and landed on top of the young man. As he fired, Silver laid down and the red laser touched the bird's head, deactivating the functions and fell off the body. The steel creature's body sizzled, falling behind.

The car door opened outside as Clarke ran to Silver's side and fired at the second bird with blinking muzzle fire. The creature exploded into pieces and helped Silver up. "You have any ink on you?" Clarke asked, dragging him to the passenger seat and shutting the door.

"No. Why?!"

"Those birds fire nasty shit at you! Let's get the hell outta here!"

Four more birds hovered over the vehicle as Clarke hit the gas pedal and sent themselves flying. The light outside of the tunnel began to illuminate. The tunel was about to close. The acceleration grew louder and both friends were pulled back by the force into their seats. While the force of the horsepower pushed them away from the windshield, one of the other robotic birds punched through Clarke's window and the feet clutched onto the top edge of the broken window. Silver aimed at the birds and the pistol surged, sending a shocking red bullet between the feet, missing. Clarke cursed to himself and pulled out his weapon, ready to fire as well. But the gun didn't charge up. clarke kept his eyes on the road, focused on the shrinking white light outside. "Keep them off me without trying to vaporize me!"

From behind the truck, Silver caught sight of the other birds floating like winged demons, one of them speeding to the mirror. He then remembered his machine gun in the back seat and loaded his bullets. Keeping focus on the rear mirror, one of the creatures barely cracked the glass at full speed while the other disappeared. "You have any other buttons for fire and ice?"

"I can't lose focus! If I use one of these buttons, we're stuck in the cave with the swarm!" Clarke replied. The bird who attacked Clarke kept hanging onto the corner roof and tore it off. Another bird flew into where Clarke sat and spat black liquids, the blue dog ducking down at the large splat. He felt the cold, liquidy oil wax the back of his head. He clenched his teeth and roared in anger, the oil burning him. Silver grabbed the bird by it's neck and pulled the neck to his face. As it drooled, the young man placed his hands inside the top beak and bottom beak. He held the body down with one leg closing the chest and widened his pull on the jaws. The robot cried out in alarming chirps as Silver pulled both sides father and dug his fingers deep down a tiny hole. The bird swung to the right and the Hummer tilted. Silver went further and almost lost his grip, pulling onto the cylindrical tube. He yanked out the spray tube and fell back, still holding the bird.

Clarke barked in frustration as the vehicle shifted from side to side and the oil almost burned into his flesh. The claws continued scraping the sides of the car and the roof came apart. He remembered his gun in the back seat. "Hand me my Uzi!"

The top of the truck flew off and three more of the winged robots screeched and flew toward the vehicle. Tossing the bird aside while more black oozed out of the mouth, the cool liquid melting the cushion below. Silver reached for the Uzi in time and tossed it onto Clarke's lap. He turned around and aimed his heavy machine gun at the robots, bullets splattering the floor. Some of the birds missed the bullets but one got hit on the wings, falling to John's side.

The small square with light on the outside began to darken. Clarke cocked back his Uzi and his foot straightened out on the gas pedal. At a very high speed, the dog aimed his Uzi to where the bird crashed through the window but it disappeared. There were still flocks swarming around the van and loud booming from the distance. "Shit! The door is closing!" He fired wildly to the right and hung on for dear life.

The light brightened on the trashed vehicle and the Hummer nearly exploded as the truck rolled over, tossing some of the birds out of the vehicle. Silver and Clarke spun around, the Hummer rolling downhill and sliding through the ice. The young man and the dog held the seats tightly while the blizzard put the ride on hyperspeed. Metal slid against white frost and ice was cracking from the back of the vehicle. Tires screeched and popped.

The truck then met the pile with a hard thud and collided with another small pile.


	4. Unlikely Guest

"Lord Commander Clear – there has been a collision in the iceberg area." Sally Wondersplat informed the red dog through the speaker.

"Are there any cogs out in the open?" Clear inquired over the radio. He hoped it wasn't a Goon or a Big Cog entering the area. Or Clarke destroying his newly developed vehicles.

"I'm uncertain – I'll send Ugly Frizzy and Duke to investigate." Sally Wondersplat was a college-aged duck who had been a part of the Toon Resistance since the first closure. A bright pink duck with red arms and legs wearing a Storm Sellbot outfit, gathered some Whole Fruit Pies, pressing the button on the radio near by her tools. "Duke Seville and Ugly Frizzy – please report to the Iceberg site." She sighed at the visual of the tall, frosty stone. Every cog had flown out of the sky and tried to land on Resistance Grounds. Luckily, the snow arrived in the nick of time and slowed down the impeding invasions.

"Ehh…" a nasal voice came on the line. "Did Santa Paws have a little too much sugar during the ride?" There was squeaky laughter running on the line.

"Please get to the iceberg." Sally ignored the joke and casually returned to her tinkering with the old Race Kart. The duck was really not in the mood for any nonsense, as were several toons in the condition they were in. Like everybody, Sally wanted to be open and silly when it came to Cog-busting and creating new equipment against the robots. But she had always been serious from the start. Her focus on the ideas of developing new cog-vehicles and weapons kept her busy than the average day toontasks.

When she joined the Resistance, Sally carried high ambitions toward equipping the Resistance with advanced transportation, rainbow-like liquids and animatronic toons for infiltrating the Cogs. But all her desires had been put aside after the closure was announced, leaving her as Lowden Clear's second-in-command. When she wasn't on watch, Sally would tamper with the damaged Skelecogs and gears, often building mini-tools for the soldiers.

Her father was a mechanic wizard – he always spent time repairing cars from Goofy Speedway whenever someone had a bad accident or wanted to create modifications. Although Sally's father didn't mind her watching the expert rebuild and repair – the man wanted Sally to get involved with Toon Politics and fight back against any clients from the Chief Justice. But after her father disappeared under mysterious circumstances, she took over the job and fell in love with the mechanics.

"I'll never understand why Sally has us head out in Candyland when the Resistance could just fix up the machines and plow through the roads, y'know?" Duke complained, trying to get a response from his friend.

"Perhaps… _brrr_ , Lowden Clear doesn't want to rely- _neighh_ \- on the machines and get moving…" Ugly Frizzy neighed, muttering out his last sentence.

"Forget what he says, man! All ' _squeak_ gotta do is get a look at this layout on paper and-" The mouse slammed on the brakes at the sight of a small junkyard by the ice tooth. The storm slowed down in the mouse's short field of view when a dark blue figure popped out of the Hummer. "Well, I'll be _squeaked!_ Clarke destroyed the last vehicle!" Duke had sarcastic enthusiasm in his voice, disgusted at another destructive complaint. He was about to radio Sally, but ran out of the car, leaving footprints on the frosty ground. Ugly Frizzy just sat and observed the teal mouse dash to the wounded hound.

 _This is not brrr- safe, this is not safe, this is neigh neigh safe,_ Ugly Frizzy mumbled nervously. His foot was out of the car and shivered at the tiny white particles landing on his legs. The brown crawled back into a ball, prone to low temperatures.

"Frizz! Give me a hand here! I think the dog captured a new cog!" Duke exclaimed.

"It is not my obligation to head on out to the negative temperatures- "

"Don't be a yellow belly! Get your _jacksqueak_ over here!"

Ugly Frizzy couldn't move. A new Cog? Sure, there were always Oilbots, Computer Jockeys, and Bronze-Bots, but what Duke had said couldn't be believable to the horse. It had been ages since the horse himself had seen _real_ cogs outside of the Resistance. He just bursted out of the vehicle and his feet landed in Hell's Snow once again and ran with his legs dangling in the air.

Silver was carried out by both Clarke and Duke, bloodied and unconscious. The tall figure's hair looked like a cyclone created a crop circle and his arms were bruised and scratched from impact. Some of the black oil melted on his pants and armor.

"Clarke! Under _neigghhhhhh_ circumstances are you to bring-"

The dark blue dog ignored Ugly Frizzy's complaints and limped his way to the vehicle. Ugly Frizzy just stood in the snow, watching Duke and Clarke open the doors and toss the young man in. Clarke sat in the driver's seat while Duke called out to the horse. "Frizzy! Let's go!" The horse waddled his way back to the car, shivering while the snow needles pierced his shoulders. As the vehicle backed away and accelerated towards base entrance, Duke and Clarke were arguing.

"What in the squeaky are you doing?!" Duke argued. "I get that you take pleasure out of extreme adrenaline trips and gathering new Cogs for interrogation, but if you think about bringing this man to base, either you or that Cog will be shot on sight!"

"I don't have a choice, Pip-Squeak. That Cog is a User like me, and he is my friend."

"So now you take it upon you that this guy isn't a machine nor can he go sad like the rest of us?"

"The only thing he does is breathe, walks, eat, sleep, and die – just like all of us and all humans."

"You know what else will happen if Lord Commander-"

"Fuck the rules, okay?! I trust him, and I promise you he won't do harm to the community."

"Watch your tounge, mutt. If he has no gears and a certain trait-"

"Drop it." Clarke barked. "This man means no harm and even if I risk my position for all this, I'll still be happy to know we're saving ToonTown and getting the most important matters with the Resistance quick and clean."

Ugly Frizzy had sat in silence by the two toons arguing and jumped in. "..Clear is always putting- _brrrr neigh neighhh_ \- toons and missions first-"

"Check his pulse and tell me if he's still breathing." Clarke wasn't in the mood to keep the debate going, turning the wheel and approaching the entrance.

The pale, brown horse put his fingers on Silver's neck and shut his eyes. A tiny kick flew out of the young man's carotid, vibrating Ugly Frizzy's fingers. The pulse beat a paradiddle, Silver's boy barely responding to the warm touch from the horse's fingers. "His breathing is poor! I'm going to _neighh brr brregh_ check for blood loss!" Ugly Frizzy reached for the red box on his left and brought the defibrillator by his knees. He ripped open the young man's armor and revealed his chest exploding with veins and scratches. The horse snatched the pads and activated the machine. Setting the shock value to 50 joules, Ugly Frizzy rubbed the pads and then pressed them to Silver's chest, jolting the body. Silver didn't awaken and only lay unconscious. He pressed the buttons again and shocked the man. The young man shook on the floor and some of his breath escaped from his lips. "I'm uncertain how to _neighhh!_ …I have never experimented on a speciemen like this!" Ugly Frizzy panicked, twiddling his thumbs and observing Silver's quiet breaths.

"No shit, sherlock! Just draw some of your blood!" Clarke grew irritated at Frizzy's hesitation. His hands stiffened and clutched the wheel but were shaken from the accident, the dog's blood imploding with pain inside the wrists. Clarke's foot crunched as he slammed on the gas pedal with whatever force he had left, releasing a ferocious growl. The vehicle's tires rolled down the hill, scraping the ice beneath the vehicle. Clarke used his other foot to firmly press the brakes but the vehicle kept sliding down. Then the truck spun right and toppled.

"Clarke...! Maybe I'll take the wheel from here!" Duke cried out, nauseated at the spinning sight outside, squirming inside his seat. His feet barely touch the floor and he squrimed out of his seatbelt, leaning over to the wheel, arms turning the opposite side.

"Hands off, pip-squeak!" Clarke snapped, veering in the opposite direction. His fingers loosened and the dog's brain was about to shut down.

"You're badly hurt and this time we won't get out alive!" Duke ejected the seatbelt, turning the wheel to his left and flew, trying to plant his feet with Clarke's unconscious body.

Ugly Frizzy kept dropping the pin from his fingertips and panted when he fell to the side, the truck spiraling into a tornado. The horse held onto the seatbelt and pinched himself, readying the needle. He stuck the syringe in his arm and exhaled, drawing blood. Pulling back on the button, he held onto the young man's arm only for the horse to strike him in the heart. The needle pierced inside the organ, blood flowing inside the young man. Frizzy's jaw dropped, watching Silver blink and cough but shocked at the young man's fate.

"Clarke! The _brrrrruman_ is taking the blood!" Ugly Frizzy yelled. There was no response. The world slowed around him, the truck continuing to whirling, Ugly Frizzy's brain rattling with the tornado. A sudden halt froze the vehicle and the bodies crashed to the roof. Clarke lay next to the normally breathing Silver, Duke keeping his hands on the wheel, gagging down at the windshield.

"Gentlemen…" a husky feminine voice blared from the speakers. "What did I tell you about crusing outside in the snow?" Sally Wondersplat smiled through the tiny screen, pulling a lever in the background. She pressed a button and a zap emerged from the distance.

"Oh, thank Slappy for Wondersplat…!" Duke exasperated, vomiting and lying his head backward.

Loud humming and vibrating deactivated the vehicle, green auras holding the truck in place. Sally had caught the four in her tractor beam and was pulling them toward the gates. Behind the screen, Sally noticed Silver's hand. What turned out to be a victorious nourishment turned into bitter disappointment. "Gentlemen…did you bring in a Cog against my orders? Did you commit an unauthorized rule of the Resistance Code?" The duck gritted her teeth, almost to the point of yelling. "Lord Commander Clear will not be pleased. I will have to lock him up and relieve the three of your for your recklessness and disobediance!"

Silver put his head back at the tilted prompter, focusing on Sally through his groggy state. "I'm not a threat…" the man slurred, the words barely escaping his lips. He slowly faded out from the mayhem as Sally's words echoed in his mind.

"Lord Commander Clear – our toons have captured an unusual Cog and made the decision to compromise our location. Send down some of your men immediately. The Guild will decide what to do with our new guest."


End file.
